


Firecracker

by CasCase



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But He Adds Extra Grip and Greater Stability, Canon Universe, Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff, Fourth of July, M/M, Post-Series, Sam is Kind of a Third Wheel, Team Free Will, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasCase/pseuds/CasCase
Summary: It's the Fourth of July, and Castiel has never seen fireworks. Dean is out to fix that.Team Free Will deserves a break!





	Firecracker

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this bit of silliness! I know there are lots of other firework/4th of July fics out there, so thanks for reading mine! This is 100% fluff.

“Wait, so you’re saying you’ve never seen fireworks? Not even once?”

Cas shook his head and Dean groaned, throwing his own head back in disbelief. “No way, man, you’ve gotta get that experience at least once! Tell ‘im, Sammy.”

“Hmm? Yeah, sure.”

Dean rolled his eyes again as his little brother didn’t even so much as glance up from the enormous book he’d buried his nose in. Ignoring the bookworm, Dean turned back to Cas, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table.

“I mean, you’ve gotta at least seen ‘em from Heaven, right? Up in the clouds, looking down on everything?”

Cas scowled. “Dean, you know that isn’t how Heaven works,” he grumbled. “Heaven doesn’t exist in the sky: that’s a myth created by ancient humans with mathematics too underdeveloped to understand quantum mechanics and the multiverse, perpetuated by traditionalist zealots who—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, ‘other plane,’ I got it the first time. What I’m saying is that in all of your millennia watching the Earth you’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, evolution, wars . . . hell, _sex_ , even, but not once did you stop to take in a fireworks show?”

Cas’s scowl grew deeper, and then he squinted in that way Dean refused to acknowledge as endearing. “I had better things to do than watch what essentially amounts to a specifically colored display of anti-aircraft weaponry.”

“Plus you had wings,” Dean added thoughtfully, considering. “Yeah, I can see where that wouldn’t go so well with things exploding in the sky.”

“Was there a point to this discussion?”

“Oh, yeah! Well, you’re in luck, buddy! I just happened to stop by a fireworks stand on my way home from the grocery store today and picked up some things. I figure we can go out to that field behind the bunker and shoot ‘em off, like we did in ’96, remember, Sammy?”

Sam grunted in acknowledgement, but didn’t look up. Dean was undeterred. “And I got us some good KC barbeque we can heat up on the grill. What d’you say, Cas? We can have a real old-fashioned Fourth of July celebration!”

The reaction was less than Dean had hoped for, given the lack of excitement these days. Cas seemed reasonably enthused, but Sam still hadn’t put down his book. Still, Dean couldn’t complain; they’d moved out of the Bunker and into the cozy four-bedroom house they now shared six months ago. Leaving the Bunker had been bittersweet, but with the gates of Hell closed forever and Gabriel delegating responsibilities in Heaven, it had seemed like a good time to move on. It took a little while to find the perfect place, with just enough space and privacy for three grown men in their forties (well, Cas’s vessel was in its forties, at least), while still in their limited budget. Sam had gone on and on about the possibilities for a library here, where they could run the Hunter Network and consult on the side, but (and Dean wouldn’t admit this aloud) what had really sold him was the look of wonder on Cas’s face when he’d seen the backyard garden.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was quiet, and after so long and so many averted attempts at the apocalypse they had earned this. Cas got to spend long hours on the porch watching the flowers and tracking the path of the bees, and the giant tome Sam was reading now wasn’t some ancient text (though he had a pile of research for several hunter friends stacked on his nightstand), but rather War and Peace. They were happy, and that made Dean happy, even if he missed the adventure just the tiniest bit.

Once Dean had finally gotten his attention, Sam agreed to drive out to the Bunker (which was outside of city limits, so fireworks were perfectly legal) to celebrate the holiday. They made it just in time to pull all of the grilling supplies out to the back entrance at get started on the food before dusk fell. Despite his initial protests, Sam set about staging the fireworks and getting everything ready for a safe demonstration. Dean pretended to rib him about it, but he was happy that they probably wouldn’t burn down the field like they did the last time with Sam in charge.

Cas sidled up next to Dean as he was glazing ribs on the grill, and Dean’s heart rate picked up a bit. Cas was listening to the cicadas rattle in the trees, eyes closed as a small breeze played across his face. Dean took the moment to follow the planes of Cas’s cheekbone, down to the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curve of his throat. He swallowed involuntarily, hastily looking back down at the food on the grill as Cas turned his head to look at him. So far, his friend hadn’t noticed the increasingly frequent glances Dean would steal during quiet moments like this, or the unnerving way his heartbeat would race and his mouth would go dry whenever they were in close proximity. 

Not that Dean had never noticed Cas before, but Cas was human now, and they were finally safe. It made all of the excuses he’d built up over the years mean next to nothing anymore.

“I, ah . . .” Dean started, closing the lid of the grill to let the meat cook. He cleared his throat. “I got sparklers. You wanna . . .?”

Cas nodded as Dean gestured toward Sam’s setup. He had grouped the smaller, hand-held fireworks in a bucket. Dean hadn’t spent much, but there were still a few sparklers and a handful of Roman candles (for old time’s sake). Dean reached in, pulled out two sparklers and handed one to Cas.

“Okay, so I’m going to light it, and it’s going to burn down the stick where there’s the compound. Just hold it away from yourself so it doesn’t burn you or put a hole in your clothes.”

Cas nodded again, a look of intense concentration on his face. It took Dean a couple of tries to light the zippo (the nerves in his right hand were never the same after he’d been sliced through the palm by a demon two years ago), but he managed to get Cas’s sparkler lit, then nearly dropped his own when Cas cried out in delight.

“Dean!” Cas exclaimed, his blue eyes wide with childlike excitement. Dean grinned.

“Yeah, they’re okay,” he said aloud, but his heart swelled up into his throat as Cas began to gently spin the sparkler in circles, drawing random shapes through the air. “Here, look, try to write your name!”

Cas played with two more sparklers after his first went out, managing to draw the first complicated Enochian letter of his name, and Dean found himself so distracted by his friend’s wonder that he nearly forgot the meat on the grill. He jogged over to turn it, then when he turned back he saw Sam showing Cas how to light a Roman candle. Soft contentment stole over him as he watched his two favorite people on the whole planet send glowing blobs through the air into the growing dusk.

“Grub’s up!” he called, and Sam and Cas discarded the spent fireworks and loped down the lawn to grab food.

“Now, this is traditional KC barbeque here, Cas,” Dean said as he dug into his ribs. “It’s got less vinegar than North Carolina, and isn’t as smoky as the traditional Texas kind.”

Cas ate delicately, now that he was finally human and not starving like he had been the last time. He nibbled gently at the rib meat, and Dean had to look away quickly before he spent too much time staring at his friend’s mouth.

“It’s good, Dean,” Cas said as he wiped his fingers and lips with a napkin.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam agreed. “Hey, if we do this next year we should invite Jody and the girls.”

Next year. They could plan for that. They could have a future, the three of them, and unlike any other time in their lives it was almost guaranteed. Sam’s voice broke Dean out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Cas, you’ve got uh, a little sauce on . . .”

“Oh, where?”

Before he could stop himself, Dean reached across and swiped at the sauce hanging out on the corner of Cas’s mouth with his thumb, sucking it off without thinking. Cas and Sam stared at him open-mouthed. The blood drained from Dean’s face.

“Oh, hey . . . look, it’s pretty dark out. Wanna do the big stuff before it’s too dark to see?”

They set off bottle rockets, a couple of fountain-types close to the ground, and then it was time to launch the main event: the large, multi-shot finale Dean had spent more money on than he would readily admit.

“Okay, move back, guys!” called Sam. “And you’ve gotta count with me. There should be twenty-six.”

Dean moved backward a few steps and suddenly found himself shoulder to shoulder with Cas. He looked over at Cas in the growing dark, his eyes cast in shadow by the twilight but his grin practically glowing.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said. A blush was crawling its way up Dean’s cheeks.

“No problem, Cas,” he said, but his throat was oddly constricted. He tried to clear it as Sam counted down.

“Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one!”

Sam slammed into place on Dean’s other side as the first shell detonated in the sky. But that wasn’t what made Dean jump.

Cas’s hand, warm and strong, gripped Dean’s own, twining fingers together.

Dean’s head whipped toward Cas, but Cas’s head was tilted back, watching the fireworks burst above the empty field. Blues, reds, golds, and greens played across Cas’s enraptured expression. Cas’s lips were moving silently, probably counting the number of fireworks to make sure they all went off properly. Dean heard the last boom and soft fizz of the final shell, and knew all of them had gone off, but none of them moved. Cas slowly turned his head to look at Dean.

“How is this our life now?” asked Sam quietly from Dean’s other side. Another moment passed, then Sam cleared his throat. “I’ll get started on cleanup.”

Dean barely noticed Sam leave, Cas’s hand firm in his, eyes still locked on each other.

“I’m glad I got to see this, Dean,” Cas said softly, his thumb rubbing tentatively across the back of Dean’s hand. “Thank you for . . . this.”

“Anytime,” Dean breathed, then it was as though it was inevitable (and maybe it was), they gravitated toward each other.

In the end, it was so easy Dean felt a long-held tension release. The first moment Dean’s lips touched Cas’s, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen any of the fireworks in the sky. His heart began to race, his palms started to sweat, and fireworks burst between them. It was gentle, exploratory, and more chaste than Dean’s typical first kisses, mostly those lovers for a night, kisses a passionate prelude to the main event. This was soft, and Dean nearly melted into it, the long anticipation giving way to deep relief. But Cas let out the tiniest of whimpers, and Dean couldn’t help but slide his free hand up to cradle the back of Cas’s head, deepening the kiss just a little.

They broke apart, and Cas was staring at him with more wonder than he’d shown the bees, or the fireworks. Dean couldn’t help but grin.

“Happy Independence Day, Cas,” he breathed. Cas smiled shyly back.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Across the field, Sam cleared his throat very loudly. “Hey, you two gonna just stand there? Help me clean up, jerk!”

“All right, all right! I’m coming, bitch!”

In the end, they weren’t very much help, and Sam even had to drive home: Dean refused to let go of Cas’s hand.


End file.
